When I started "Cornellingus" in 2004, I had this lofty idea that writing a column would be an opportunity to flex my literary muscles, to find the humor in the quotidian and to share the lessons I've learned with readers who might otherwise have had to learn them the hard way. Two years and more than 20 columns later, I now know that the main qualification of any columnist is simply an extraordinarily thick skin. Since this will be my last column, I suppose I have some explaining to do - and a nearly Oscar-worthy list of acknowledgements.

To my tremendous retrospective amusement, I became "the sex columnist" almost completely by accident. My first article was the result of an unexpected, half-joking phone call from a dear friend - who happened to be the editor-in-chief - and then I just never stopped writing.

I originally toyed with adopting a pseudonym, but the idea seemed incongruous and ultimately futile. Instead, I became adept at keeping my personal information out of the hands of would-be stalkers, and I'm happy to report that my paranoia has been largely successful.

My moniker (I hope) requires little explanation. "Cornellingus" was conceived, like so much of the detritus that ends up in this column, at 4 a.m., in a conversation on AIM. According to another close pal, it was once the name of a drink served at a Model UN conference. Conveniently, it combines my beloved alma mater with my very favorite sex act. What can I say? I'm a sucker for puns.

I've attempted to catalogue the absurdity, the irony and the immutable hilarity of this journey upon which we've embarked. One minute I was snuggling, contentedly alone and fully clothed, atop a mountain of throw pillows arranged primly on an extra-long twin bed. And just the next minute, it seems, I was sprawled, spent, in an upstairs bedroom, chortling at my bed mate who, wearing only a backwards baseball cap, was twirling his now-flaccid penis and singing, "Helicopter! Helicopter!" (Dorky antics aside, after four condoms and two thoroughly satisfying orgasms, I have to say that the boy's stamina is pretty impressive.)

In two years of bi-weekly columns, I've had the opportunity to write about a fairly broad range of topics, but for various reasons, a few subjects have been left out. For example, The Anal Sex Column has become something of a tradition with Cornell sex columnists, but, as it turns out, I am profoundly ambivalent towards anal sex. And I don't think anyone wants to read a column entitled "Eh, It's Okay Sometimes … I Guess." So, regarding anal sex, if you don't like it, don't do it, and if you do like it, just use protection.

Similarly, my writing has focused on the heterosexual spectrum for one very simple reason: it's all I know. For me to claim any functional familiarity with homosexual sex and relationships would be preposterous and, I think, insulting. While I will agree that there is a severe shortage of queer perspectives in print, I am ill-equipped to remedy this situation.

I've been surprised to find that, while the idea of a woman writing honestly about sex is by no means revolutionary, my most innocuous ruminations can still inspire some teapot-sized tempests. But, writing "Cornellingus" has been an overwhelmingly positive experience, and I'm pleased to have provided a measure of entertainment - and hopefully some useful knowledge.

If I were to impart a final nugget, I would say that sexual relationships are too often polluted by mind games and power trips, by neuroses and reservations. Simply put, sex should not be about power. Intimacy is not leverage for some other goal; nor is it a prize to be won. Sex is something people do with each other - not something one person does to another - and I think we can all afford to loosen up a bit.

In conclusion, thank you first and foremost to all of my amazing friends for their contributions to my little ongoing social experiment - for sharing experience and insight and more than a few bouts of hysterical laughter.

I'd also like to salute the men whose names and faces wink up at me from the working draft of my brief history - even the ones who struggled with Technical Difficulties or couldn't find my clitoris or somehow thought it would be appropriate to screw one of my friends while we were together. Besides providing material for this column, they taught me important lessons about life and love - and hey, we had some pretty good sex too. Thanks especially to Adonis, just for being such a good sport. You still have great abs, and I'm sorry I dumped you by email.

Additionally, I want to thank my editors for their invaluable guidance and humor - and for their patience with my missed deadlines and repeated use of, "the good news is I had amazing sex last night … and again this morning; the bad news is my column is going to be a couple of hours late." It's been a true privilege to work with such brilliant, talented people.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you to my wonderful parents for their support. Yes, they read my column, and they're proud as punch.

Heather Grantham is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be contacted at opinion@cornelldailysun.com. Cornellingus appeared alternate Tuesdays.

Archived article by Heather Grantham